


Mailah

by GayApril16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Programming, Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Castiel's Nickname is Cas (Supernatural), Dreams, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24444694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayApril16/pseuds/GayApril16
Summary: At the beginning of time, Chuck and Amara—the light and the darkness—came into being, but they weren’t the first—another intelligence existed before them, more powerful than them both. When she became a threat, she was locked away in a cage that was stronger than Amara’s and Lucifer’s combined, then forgotten by all, under Chuck’s orders. Now she wants out, and—as always—it’s up to Team Free Will to keep her from being released and destroying the world.It’s a race against the clock to find whoever is opening her cage and stop them, but that isn’t their only problem: Once again, Cas is being mind-controlled, but this time it’s not an angel pulling his strings. Add in Sam suddenly getting visions again after nearly a decade and Dean taking on somewhat monstrous traits out of the blue, it’s obvious enough that there’s a lot more going on here than they know.It’s gonna be a wild ride.
Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural) & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	Mailah

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first time writing/posting a multiple-chapter fic, so please bear with me as I go. I’m posting chapters as I write them and may go back and edit things slightly later if needed, or potentially move to a new post if things happen. I’ve got a lot planned so this should be exciting.  
> The set up for this fic: The Darkness was never released, TFW doesn’t know Chuck is God, Dean is no longer a demon, Cas somehow got his grace back early (don’t ask how), and Metatron is no longer an issue. Basically this starts immediately after Season 10 Episode 3 (Soul Survivor) but Cas somehow got his own grace back (the how isn’t really important so I’m not likely to address it).  
> I will update periodically, and more tags will be added as I write more. The relationship may change (Destiel later maybe?) but the rating shouldn’t get above T (for canon-typical violence).  
> I have no beta, so any mistakes are my own.  
> Anyways, enjoy!

Castiel slumped at one of the tables in the library, exhausted. Curing Dean had taken hours, and even if it hadn’t been physically straining it’d definitely been emotionally draining. Even with the black eyes, even knowing Dean was a Knight of Hell, the words that Dean had thrown at Cas and Sam had felt like knives. Worse than knives, even, and even with a very-much-human Dean currently asleep in his bedroom, Cas couldn’t help but wonder how many of the things demon-Dean had said were true.

Having to go through that mere hours after regaining his grace hadn’t done Cas any favors either. The transition from running on stolen grace to being fueled by his own had been somewhat painful, disorienting but somehow _right_ at the same time. It had been taxing on his body, as well—his muscles ached and his vision kept blurring, seemingly in spite of his attempts to heal himself. It made sense, in a way—his body was now just as much a part of his “true form” as his grace was. He was grounded in it, and no amount of angelic power was going to be able to make him feel it any less.

Cas was staring at the wooden tabletop, his eyes tracing the run of the grain. It was a repetitive observation and after not very long Cas found his thoughts drifting, his tired muscles relaxing. Cas could’ve done any number of things at this point. Even relaxed, he was still completely alert and aware of the world around him, and he could’ve chosen to read one of the various books scattered across the table, or check on Sam of Dean, or anything else, really. But he didn’t want to. If anything, he wanted to rest—and that was hard to achieve, being an angel. His internal clock kept the exact time and his soldier’s instincts screamed at him that he was wasting those minutes. Angels weren’t built to relax, much less _rest_ —they didn’t _need_ to do either, after all.

But Cas wanted to.

Cas’ grace stirred, and Castiel straightened. The sensation was similar to how his grace felt when he healed or smote something, a surge of power—but it wasn’t directed towards something else. The surge spread through Cas _himself_. It was an odd sensation, foreign and familiar at the same time, like a friend he hadn’t seen in years.

Tiredness washed through Cas, the result of the surge of his grace. It felt like his limbs had turned to warm rubber as he sagged onto the table, his head resting in his arms as he fell completely, soundlessly asleep.

*****

_Cas was in heaven, but even as he turned in place he felt off. It wasn’t anywhere he recognized—not the white halls or the sterile office Naomi had used or the large meeting rooms, not the pleasant Thursday afternoon that he liked to visit. This heaven was less structured, more open. Angels milled together, talking or playing or training, so many of them so young. There wasn’t a human soul in sight, and vaguely Castiel recognized that this was before. Before the Garden, before Lucifer had started fighting. Before Angels had become soldiers, all that time ago._

_“What are you thinking about, Cas?”_

_Castiel turned to the owner of the voice, the sound so familiar and yet not at the same time. The woman was smiling gently, her head tilted to one side with curiosity. She was looking down at Cas, but she wasn’t really that tall—Castiel was just a bit shorter, still an adolescent. He seemed to be in a human shape. The woman he was looking at was obviously older than him, even though . . ._

_Cas was certain that the woman wasn’t an angel. It wasn’t just her very human appearance—light hair in a braid down her back, deep brown eyes that contrasted nicely to her slightly-tanned skin, her young frame slender but strong. Her power shone too brightly to be that of an archangel’s, and had Cas ever met his father he would have bet that she would have outshone him as well._

_Castiel found himself drawn to her light, physically embracing the woman and burying his face in her shoulder. She smelled wonderful, like lilacs and pine wood, gentle scents that mixed together in a pleasant way that told Cas he was home._

_The woman hugged him back, strong but loving at the same time._

_“I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured softly. After a long moment she pulled away, her hands still resting on Cas’ shoulders. Cas actually whimpered a little at the loss of contact, a pang of disappointment running through him. The woman laughed softly._

_“A little touch-starved, aren’t you?”_

_Cas ducked his head as he realized the accuracy of the statement—the only positive physical contact he got from anyone was the occasional hug from Sam or Dean, each over far too quickly. Then Cas frowned, the stark contrast of timing of those moments to where he was now confusing him. He was at the beginning, but he’d also just been billions of years later . . ._

_“Hey, don’t overthink it,” the woman said, lifting one hand to cup Cas’ cheek. It was oddly comforting, and Cas couldn’t but help lean into the warm, gentle touch. The sensation wasn’t like anything he could ever remember experiencing—pure safety and a sense of love that he couldn’t identify. It wasn’t romantic love or sexual love or even just love of friends, but something else altogether. Safety. Home._

_Cas relished it, bringing his own hand up to cover the woman’s._

_The woman studied him for a long while, seeming to drink in everything she could see. Finally she pulled Cas in for another hug, which Cas reciprocated happily._

_“I’m so sorry that I have to do this to you,” the woman said softly, “but I’ve spent millions of years looking for another way, and now I’m out of time.”_

_Castiel frowned. He shifted in her arms so he could look up at her, his breath catching as he saw the woman’s eyes turn from brown to silver._

_“Castiel.” The woman’s voice had changed, becoming firm and stern. A chill ran down Castiel’s spine as he realized that the woman was now speaking Enochian._

_“Castiel, I command you: you will listen to every order I give, and you will obey.”_

_The command sparked through Cas’ grace, writing itself into his very being. He cried out softly, his legs giving out as his angelic coding changed. The woman caught him, gently lowering them both to the ground as Cas’ entire body trembled._

_“Why?” Cas gasped as he looked up at the woman through tears of pain. Unable to manage anything else, he repeated, “Why?”_

_The woman almost seemed to be in pain herself, her expression troubled as she studied the angel in her arms._

_“Because there’s no other way,” she finally said, once again speaking English. “I tried everything, and this is the only way.”_

_“The only way for what?” Castiel cried. He was practically begging now, clinging on to the woman’s white shirt as if to ground him against the wrongness of the new command ingrained into his grace._

_“The only way for your world to survive.”_

_Cas froze, trying to understand, but then something was shaking him in the waking world and—_

—Cas woke up, shooting upright and startling Sam, who had been shaking his shoulder.

“Woah, you okay?” Sam asked, reflexively holding up his hands in surrender. 

“I’m fine, all things considering,” Cas said. He blinked, trying to remember what he’d been dreaming about, but like all dreams it had quickly dissolved. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You _did_ get your grace back, right?” Sam asked. When Cas nodded his confirmation, Sam continued, “So why were you sleeping? Doesn’t that only happen when your grace is low?”

Cas tilted his head, thinking. He wasn’t at full power, but he wasn’t _that_ low. He thought back to what he’d been doing before he’d fallen asleep, and as he remembered the odd surge his grace had done understanding dawned. 

“I think I _chose_ to fall asleep,” Cas said. “I made myself fall asleep using my grace.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “You . . . okay. You _think_?”

“I’ve never heard of it happening before,” Cas admitted. 

“And you’re sure that it was a choice? Not some external force or you not being at 100%?” 

“Yes. It was an active application of my grace, such as healing or smiting. It was just . . . on _me_ instead.”

Sam made his ‘Huh, that’s interesting’ face, seeming to think about it for a few moments more before dismissing it as a potential problem. He shifted his stance, tucking his hands into his pockets before he said, “Anyways, Dean is up.”

Cas’ breath caught as anxiety bloomed in his stomach. “Is he . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question, not exactly sure which words he should use.

“Um, decent, I suppose.” Sam ran a hand down his face. “A bit—well, more like a _lot_ freaked and slightly self-destructive, but okay, considering.” Suddenly seeming to remember something important, Sam straightened to his full height. ”Cas— _the Mark is gone_.”

There was a long moment, then Cas breathed a sigh of relief, breathing a thanks to his father as a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been bearing lifted from his shoulders. The Mark was gone—Dean was free.

*****

Hours later, Cas paused as he walked through the library, staring at the spot where he’d fallen asleep. Something was prodding at the back of his mind, urgently trying to get Cas’ attention, but every time Cas tried to grab hold of it it slipped away. Cas rubbed his forehead, feeling at a loss as he tried to remember what was so important. 

After a few minutes he gave up, frustrated. He returned to his task, blissfully unaware of the changes that had been made in his angelic programming while he’d slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading what I’ve got so far, leave kudos/a comment if you enjoyed!


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